35 Millimeters III Fisheye Lens
by Lady Aishiteru
Summary: Rei Hino hates men, but when her grandpa is on his deathbed, his final wish is to see her get married. To please her grandpa, she fakes an engagement with Jadeite. What happens if they stop pretending?
1. Good Intentions

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35 Millimeters III: Fisheye Lens  
By Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter One: Good Intentions

"That was a nice show you put on there, Jadeite," I said sardonically, tucking a strand of long, black hair behind my ear. My mind was going a mile a minute and my emotions wavered from aroused to extremely pissed off. I know that I said we had to act like a couple, but did he have to go and fawn over me in front of Grandpa like that?

Jadeite smiled that devious grin of his that always hinted at something more. "I do what I can, Rei"

I smiled, faking candor. Under the circumstances, I thought it was best to humor him. "I'm serious. You deserve an Oscar for that one."

"I am but your humble protégé, O Great Queen of Scams," Jadeite replied, faking an English accent, pretty horribly, I might add. He was right; I had started it.

"You are only too kind," I mumbled dryly.

"May I see you to your door?" Jadeite asked, putting the car into park on the curbside closest to my apartment.

"You've seen my door plenty of times," I snapped without thinking. Feeling repentant, I held out my arm, and Jadeite took it; then for a reason I couldn't explain, my stiff muscles instantly relaxed. My heart rate didn't, however; at this point, I didn't know what to expect.

Finally, we stopped at the door. "Well, this is it, Jadeite. End of the line." Seeking to narrow the odds, I slipped my arm from his and turned my key in the lock. It only got three quarters of the way before I felt a hand running through my hair, stopping me in my tracks.

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?" Jadeite murmured into my ear. He posed the question in an almost teasing manner, but there was a serious undercurrent that stated that he meant business. The thought of that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Was it cold outside? I hadn't noticed.

"Inside, to bed" I responded, and I added, lest there be any doubts, "Alone."

"Sleeping alone, eh? Well, this will give you something to dream about." Without any further warning, he teased my lower lip with his own, gently pulling them open.

"Jadeite, what do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Just this," he responded. He turned me around like a swing dancer would twirl his partner so I was facing him. He placed a butterfly kiss on each corner of my lip as if testing me, teasing me. I wanted to duck away and then run off screaming into the night like some kind of crazed banshee, but my legs seemed have a will of their own to remain firmly planted on the ground, not moving an inch. "Rei Hino, how do you get yourself into these things?" I wondered, and that was my last coherent thought until his lips formed a tight, elastic seal over my own.

I glanced at my menu nervously. I still couldn't believe that I was doing this. "Whose harebrained idea was this, exactly?" I mumbled to myself. "Mina's, of course." Well, that wasn't technically true, if the truth had to be told. This was all my idea, but I was under a lot of pressure when I came up with this, you see. My grandpa was dying, and like the dutiful granddaughter that I am, I was fulfilling his dying wish.

I can still remember the day when it all began. Just as I had pulled my car into the Cherry Hill Shrine, I saw an ambulance block my parking space in the driveway, the blaring sirens violating the peacefulness of our home. I parked without thinking, and then I made a mad dash out of the car. My eyes confirmed my worst fears, and there was Grandpa, lying there stiffly in a stretcher. "What happened?" I cried.

"Are you his granddaughter?" a paramedic asked me. I nodded numbly and he continued, "We received a call that this man had collapsed suddenly in the kitchen."

"Who called?" I asked.

"Someone named Yuiichirou; he claims to work here. We're not sure what made your grandfather collapse, so we're running to the hospital for some tests."

"Will he be okay?" I asked, biting my lip to keep from crying.

"We don't know," said the paramedic. "The ambulance is about ready to go. Would you like to come with us?" I nodded again, and the paramedic led me to the front seat of the ambulance.

The next few hours were a blur. I remember being led to the lobby of the emergency room, then to a small room that was sectioned off somewhere in the hospital. Someone said it was Grandpa's room in the emergency ward, but I was too numb to comprehend any of it.  
I just sat there, trying to take it all in. This couldn't be happening to me. "It's all a very bad dream, and I should wake up any second now," I thought. It couldn't be real. How could the last connection to my family just slip away so easily?

My dad left my mother to pursue a career in politics just before she died of a disease I couldn't recognize. I remember that she looked so weak and pale, like a broken doll lying in a heap of parts. I think Father said that Mother was holding him back, and he said it in such a contemptuous way that no man should use when speaking of his wife. I think he blamed Mother for falling ill, like it was so incredibly convenient of her to get sick right before the start of campaign season. I think he hated Mother for being sick, and I think he didn't feel anything for me at all.

My father practically dumped me on my Grandpa's doorstep as if I was dead weight, as if I was trash. Oh, he still checks on me once a year to make sure I'm alive. He sends me casablancas, which are white lilies, for my birthday. He can't even be bothered to take me out to dinner once a year; his assistant does that. It's as if he can't even stand the sight of me. I loathe him so much that he makes me sick.

My grandpa is the only one who has really been a father to me, so sitting there next to that hospital bed, it felt like I was losing two people instead of one. He's always been there for me, and I wanted to be there for him now. It was the least that I could do.

"R-Rei?" I heard a small voice ask.

"Grandpa! You're awake?" I cried joyfully.

"Looks that way," he said, a wobbly grin gracing his cheeks. It was just like Grandpa to make jokes at a time like that.

"You old fool, you had me scared to death," I said. He grinned up at me in a way that was half joyful, half apologetic. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Not so good, Rei. They say it's cancer."

All of the color drained from my cheeks right then. "Has it…spread to any of your organs?"

Grandpa nodded feebly, as if scared of hurting me. "They say it's spread to my liver."

I gasped. "Does that mean you're going to…die?"

"Probably," he said, and he fell silent for a long time, which wasn't like him at all. "I haven't got very long," he said. "The doctors say that I've got five months at best."

I nodded, trying to take it all in. "Is there anything I can do?"

He nodded. "I've had many long, happy years. Raising you has been the joy of my life. All I want is to see you happy, Rei."

I nodded. "I am happy, Grandpa."

He shook his head. "Before I die, it would put my heart at rest if you…would settle down with the right man."

Normally, I'd do what I did whenever Grandpa had brought the subject up in the past. I'd ask him what did I need marriage for? I'd argue that I don't need any prospects, that I've a great circle of family and friends. But looking into his eyes, I could see that Grandpa really meant what he said. "Okay, Grandpa, I'll try."

"That's a good girl," he said. His eyelids drooped down, and he slept the sleep of the contented.

I was hardly content, however. I didn't want anything to do with men, especially not marriage. Dealings with my father haven't made the best impression on my about the opposite gender, and I certainly didn't want to be tied down to any man. What if they became like Father? I didn't want to die alone on a rumpled bed, crying myself to sleep at night like Mother did when she thought I was asleep.

Then I realized that I didn't promise to get married; I promised to try. Maybe I could get away with pretending to try. Maybe I could fix it so it looked like I was married, or at least on that track. If Grandpa doesn't know the difference, what harm could it be? He'd die happy and I'd escape with my soul intact.

The next problem I had was who would I pick to be my pretend husband-to-be? He'd have to be a clever man, someone who was my intellectual equal, and especially a good actor. I'd have to spend a lot of time with this person to make it look real; Grandpa knew just about everyone in Tokyo, or it seemed that way. I frowned to myself; who on Earth would I be able to use to pull this one off?

I remembered this one guy that I had seen at an electronics store once. There was something about him that interested me, a spark of something in his eyes that resembled a challenge.

We had walked into the store with the Usagi, Makoto, Minako and Mamoru on a rainy Friday night that smelled of thunder. It was about a year ago, back when I was still seeking my master's in psychology and Ami was still finishing med school. We were about ready to go shopping, and we popped into Ami's dorm room to invite her to go with us.

"Hey Ames, we were just thinking about shopping for DVD players. Do you want to come with?" asked Minako, a hopeful gleam in her eye.

"No, I'm good. I still have to study for the test next Monday," she said, tucking a pencil behind her ear.

"Are you sure? Mamoru says they've got the latest models out," Minako prompted, trying to set the proverbial carrot on a stick.

"Even though we don't really need one," prompted Usagi.

"Minako, it's not like Ami's some kind of hermit crab stuck inside her shell. Believe it or not, some people are energized by peace, quiet, and solitude. There's nothing wrong with that," I pointed out. I hate it when Minako does that.

"Gee, Freud, how have I gotten along without your wisdom?" asked Minako sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"It's okay, guys. I'll see you at the Soda Shoppe on Monday. Have fun," she said, and with that we were dismissed.

"Seriously, I think it's high time I set Ami up on a date," said Minako as we all piled into Usagi and Mamoru's giant SUV.

"Come on, Minako, don't play matchmaker with Ami. She wouldn't like it," said Makoto, a frown creasing her freckled face.

"Yeah, it's not like she's an old spinster or anything," I added.

"Quiet, or you'll be next," Makoto whispered, elbowing me and winking. I laughed with her, knowing that her own love life was subject to Minako's meddling. Minako's been convinced that she's secretly in love with Nephrite, who had been her best friend since childhood. She was right about Usagi and Mamoru, which tipped the scoreboard slightly more towards her favor. That hardly made her the goddess of love; there was only one point on Minako's side of the game, which made it Minako One, Everyone Else One Million.

"Mamo-chan," said Usagi when we got into the store, "we don't need a DVD player. We already have one," she said, gently teasing her husband.

"I know, love, but this one's cutting edge stuff," he said; arm in arm with his wife. "The sound quality's absolutely amazing, or that's what I hear, anyways."

"Right," I joked, "You know you just want another one of your gadgets. Like I always say, the only difference between a grown man and a boy is how much money they spend on their toys." Finishing my sentence, I then glared at Usagi, who had been lip-synching with me the whole time. I hate it when she does that.

"Come on, Rei, that's not fair! Don't go using your psych stuff on me," said Mamoru, feigning hurt.

"Yeah, not everyone has a bachelor's in psychology," Minako pointed out, probably still mad about my rescuing Ami from her matchmaking magic.

"That wasn't psychology," I retorted. "Just an observation. Guys are all alike-"

"Are we now?" said a voice from behind us. Who was that dissenting voice? I whirled around to face the stranger who dared to get into the middle of one of my Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus dissertations. He stood at just over six feet in length, with blond hair and a triangular build, but what I noticed the most were his steely blue eyes that said he was up to my challenge without saying a word. His body language was confident and ready to respond to my attack on his gender. His arms were crossed, his shoulders were squared towards mine, and his long legs were together, feet facing forwards.

I looked up at my opponent for what must have only been a moment, but seemed like forever. "Yes," I replied, suddenly unsure of myself. "Yes, you are."

"Ah, hello, Jadeite. I didn't expect to see you here," said Mamoru. "What brings you here at this godawful hour?"

"You should know, Chiba. You never let me leave my desk!" He said it with a straight face, but his ever-expressive eyes told a different story.

"Ouch," said Mamoru, grinning. "Anyways, have you found anything good?"

I didn't pay attention to the conversation. I didn't really care what they were saying anyways; it was all a bunch of shoptalk and technological jargon that I couldn't understand even if I wanted to. What I was thinking about was Jadeite, who kept an eye on me the whole time, as if he was looking for something. A slow smile worked its way into his cheeks as if he found it, and that didn't settle in me.

The thing that bothered me even then as I sat next to Grandpa's hospital bed was that I still didn't have a witty retort. Here was someone who had a spark of intelligence about him. He may not be husband material, but at least he would be an agile debate partner. Resolved on this plan of action, I patted Grandpa's blanket and walked out of the room, determined to set the wheels into motion.

A very vocal clearing of the throat brought me back to the dinner table at the Chez Pierre, where I nervously sipped my water and held the menu up to my face.

I lowered my menu slightly and gazed at my dinner guest. He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask me as if I was forgetting something, namely him. I smiled politely and put down my menu. "So what are you getting, Jadeite?"

"Chicken Marsalla, special of the house," he replied, and I frowned a bit. It looked like he really didn't want to be there, and I didn't blame him. Under different circumstances, I would have felt the same way, but I needed him or my plan wouldn't work.

Jadeite didn't have much of a choice, however. I had won him in a charity bachelor auction sponsored by Chiba Inc, which was no mean feat, considering that every woman in the auditorium wanted to take him home with her. I put up a rather large sum; so technically, he was my slave, well, for the night, anyways.

"Ah, I see." I said, fidgeting with the napkin. Clearing my throat, I prepared to lay my cards out on the table. "I'm sensing you want to know why I bid on you at the auction." He nodded, his gaze steady and serious. "My grandpa's on his deathbed, and he wants me to get married."

He nodded. "I don't see how that's my problem," he said, sipping his water. "You've only got me for the night."

"Well, I have this thing, you see, I hate men," I said, and he didn't look shocked at all. "I couldn't get anyone to do this for me under normal circumstances. What I need from you is for you to pretend to be my fiancée."

Jadeite spit out his drink, spewing bits of lemony water everywhere. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because if you don't, you'll break an old man's heart," I said, sniffling a bit for effect. "I know you think I'm some kind of shrew, and you're entitled to that. If you want, I'll even pay you for the ring. We only have to pretend to be engaged for a few months. The cancer's spreading, so my grandpa doesn't have long. After the funeral, you're free to go, no questions asked."

I paused, waiting for Jadeite to laugh me out of the restaurant. Instead, his expression softened a bit. "You're really serious, aren't you?" I nodded, looking down at the table. "Ah, what the heck. I'll do it."

"You mean it?" I asked, my eyes shining with desperation. "Really?"

"Sure."


	2. We're Not REALLY Engaged, You Know

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35 Millimeters III: Fisheye Lens

By Lady Aishiteru

Chapter Two: We're Not _Really_ Engaged, You Know

I was sitting cross-legged in the middle of my living room when I heard the doorbell ring. I raised my eyebrow, uncrossed my legs, stood up and walked over to the front entrance of my condominium to see who the interloper was that dared to interrupt my meditation hour. I was a little surprised to see Jadeite standing outside of my door with his right arm raised to knock, his left arm clutching a bouquet of roses and his left foot tapping impatiently against the stained wood porch.

I was fully prepared to ask him what the hell he was doing here when I caught a glimpse of my watch; it was precisely seven-thirty pm. I smacked my forehead; I had completely forgotten that it was already time for our first date. "Why on earth does he have to be so punctual anyways?" I thought, hastily brushing off the tight, form fitting aerobic attire that I was wearing. Pasting on a smile, I walked leisurely over to the front door, as if I actually meant to go out to God Knows Where in my workout clothes. "Hey," I uttered breezily.

Jadeite raised a trimmed blond eyebrow at my outfit. "Nice clothes," he said, grinning. "Anyways, I bought these for you," he finished, holding out the bouquet.

"Thanks," I said, taking the bouquet. "I'll find a vase to put these in." I closed the door slowly, but after the door was shut, I ran around the condo like a bat out of Hell. I wasn't about to leave the apartment in a midriff-bearing florescent green and black striped halter-top, matching black yoga pants and pair of battered white socks that each sported a toe-sized hole in the front. Racing around the bedroom, I managed to locate a sleek pair of jeans, a crimson peasant blouse, a pair of chunky leather shoes and my favorite bottle of perfume. I placed a few squirts of perfume onto the pulse points of my neck and wrists, hastily put on some mascara and blush, combed my hair, and then ran to the front door where Jadeite was wearing the most puzzled expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, stepping over the threshold.

"If you needed more time to get ready, you could have let me in," pointed out Jadeite in an injured tone.

"And why would I have done that? Gaining entrance into a lady's residence is a second or third date kind of thing," I retorted in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Says who?" he asked, opening the passenger side door.

"Says me," I replied as I raised my foot to get into the car.

"Sorry I asked," Jadeite said in a resigned tone as he turned the key in the ignition. I sighed aloud; it was going to be a long night. "Anyways, I always let the lady choose the first date. Where are we going?" asked Jadeite, who sounded more than ready to change the subject.

Looking down at my no-nonsense pants, I twiddled my thumbs and thought about it. "I was thinking we could go to The Bug Jar," I finished, looking up.

"The Bug Jar? Sounds…interesting," Jadeite said, putting the car into drive. "And where exactly would we find this Bug Jar?"

I smiled, only too happy to provide directions. When we got there, I was grinning from ear to ear. "That'll teach him to make fun of my fitness gear," I thought, still smiling as he opened the passenger side door. I was still slightly miffed about his comment on my fitness gear, so I was glad that I had mentioned the best place in town where someone who was as dressed to the nines as Jadeite stick out like a sore thumb. After all, it wasn't my fault that he hadn't changed from his work clothes; he was wearing an Armani suit.

Arm in arm, we walked in and my senses were immediately assaulted by an awful combination of secondhand smoke and terrible lighting. A group of hand holding lesbians were glaring at Jadeite in full force from one corner, and an assortment of people who were pierced in places I didn't even want to think about occupied another. A pair of throbbing speakers flanked a frenetic, thrashing heavy metal band, and directly below the stage was a group of people who were dancing to a terrible sound that can only be described as noise. I frowned to myself; I was expecting to hear a folk singing group or something. Maybe I should have actually visited The Bug Jar in person instead of taking Minako's word for it.

"Wow, this is great, Rei! I had no idea that you were a heavy metal fan!" yelled Jadeite.

"What?" I yelled back.

"I didn't know that you liked this music!" yelled Jadeite. "This is the best Metallica tribute band I've ever heard!"

I groaned, but it was no use. There was no way that any sound below ninety decibels could be heard anywhere in the near vicinity. "Do you want to dance?" asked Jadeite.

"What?" I yelled back, unable to hear him.

"Do you want to dance?" Jadeite yelled.

"Okay!" I screamed, a bit frustrated. Not only had my scheme to make Jadeite pay for insulting my crappy exercise gear blown up in my face, but I also had to pretend to enjoy myself. I gave my feet a halfhearted shuffle as he clapped his hands and jerked his head like a mosh pit regular. I was tempted to laugh at the ridiculous union of his polished looks and his rendition of an air guitar. Despite the occasional strange look from the other dancers, Jadeite genuinely seemed to be having a good time.

"I love this song!" cried Jadeite as the band switched to another brand of noise.

"You'd love a bong?" I asked, regretting the question immediately.

"What?" asked Jadeite. "I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up!" he finished.

"I'll have to pee...cup? As in he wants me to pee in a cup? Why would he want a urine sample? And what does a bong have to do with anything? What kind of weird activities is this guy into?" I thought, arching my eyebrows. Whatever he was thinking, I wanted no part of it. "You're not my doctor, so I am not going to pee in a cup! Why on Earth do you want a bong?" I yelled, spacing each syllable at the pace any second-language speaking idiot could understand.

I smacked my forehead and stamped my foot. "This is ridiculous! I can't hear anything except this blasted noise!" I screamed, adding extra emphasis on the last word.

Everyone stopped dancing and glared at me. I smacked my forehead again, this time bringing my palm all the way down to my chin. It figured that the music stopped playing just then, it just plain figured. I clenched my fists; the Universe must be playing a horrible trick on me today. Sensing my humiliation, Jadeite gently asked if I wanted to leave. I nodded vigorously, more than eager to comply.

"Are you sure you want to go? You were having such a good time," I ended sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Well, it's not a good date unless both of us are having fun," said Jadeite, smiling. I nodded in reply; he had a point. "By the way, I'm don't, nor will I ever, own a bong, much less love one, and I never asked you to pee in a cup."

"Oh," I replied, my face flushing a brilliant shade of red. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay; the music was pretty loud. Speaking of which, why did you insist on coming here if you knew you'd hate it so much?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, a friend of mine swore that she heard a folk singer play here," I said, smiling sheepishly.

"Are you sure you're not thinking of The Beatle Jug?" asked Jadeite, holding out his arm in a goodwill gesture.

I linked arms with him and shook my head. "Well, she does get mixed up on things from time to time." I smiled, keeping in mind that it was Minako who had recommended The Bug Jar to me as a place having "a lovely sixties-styled cultural theme and lovely, lilting protest music." "Actually, she's pretty much mixed up on every day that ends with the letter 'y.'"

Jadeite laughed. "Sounds like a simple mistake. I'd be willing to write this one off if you are," he said, smiling a crooked grin. He unhooked his arm from mine and opened up the passenger side door.

"That's fine with me," I said, laughing as I shut the door. "Are you sure you want to be my fiancé?" I asked jokingly once we were both in the car. "I have a terminal case of bad karma."

Jadeite smirked and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm sure it's just dumb luck."

"I hope so," I returned with a good spirited grin of my own. "I was thinking I'd let you pick the next date just to be on the safe side," I added.

"Well, it couldn't hurt," he replied. There was a long pause where Jadeite just quietly stared at the road and gripped the wheel harder than usual. I gazed outside the passenger side window, looking at nothing in particular. "How do you feel about museums?" he asked, finally breaking up the tension that had crept into the car.

"What exhibit is in town?" I asked.

"They've got a whole wing of artifacts that just came in from Cairo," he said, loosening his grip on the steering wheel.

"Cairo, Egypt?" I asked, hoping to sound intelligent.

"Yeah. They're bringing in the sarcophagus of Pa-debehu-Aset," he said. "It's one of the finest anthropoids I've ever seen; but I'm a little biased."

"I'm sure," I said, barely understanding a word that he said.

"I mean, when most people think of ancient Egyptian sarcophagi, they think of young, trim Pharaohs like Tutankhamun. Pa-debehu-Aset wasn't even a Pharaoh," he said, using one hand to make frantic hand gestures. I nodded, my eyes glazing over. "Tutankhamun wasn't even a very good Pharaoh himself. There is some pretty reliable evidence out there that he may have even been mentally deficient."

"Is that so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and stifling a yawn.

"Am I boring you?" he asked, easing the car into a parallel park.

I hesitated, wondering if I should choose honesty or flattery. Flattery would cause me to suffer through an entire night of "Pharaoh" this, and "pyramids" that, but honesty had the potential to make things even more awkward between us. Still, any relationship, even a fake one, was built on trust, and I would have to be spending a lot of time with Jadeite. The subject might come up again, and I would be forced to lie a second time, maybe even to the point of researching this whole Egyptian baloney past the point of tedium. Maybe there was some room in this for a compromise.

"We don't have to go the museum if you don't want to," responded Jadeite as if he knew the answer to his own question.

"That's okay; I'd love to go," I said, forcing a smile. "I may not be crazy about ancient Egypt, but I love the artworks of the Renaissance." Jadeite smiled and took the keys out of the ignition. I didn't know what relieved Jadeite more, the knowledge that he didn't have to give up a tour of his favorite ancient relics after all, or that I had told the truth. I concluded that it was probably a tie as the passenger side door opened, revealing Jadeite with his arm outstretched on the other side.

"May I escort you to the door?" asked Jadeite.

I smiled; he had done the same thing after the "engagement" dinner. I credited Jadeite with one thing; at the very least, he had good manners. "Sure," I replied, allowing him to help me out of the car even though I didn't need his assistance.

We arrived at the front door just when the journey to get there was becoming awkward. Jadeite held out his hand, and I extended mine, not certain what to expect. He smiled gently at my uncertainty, and then he gave my hand a vigorous shake. "Here's to six more months," quipped Jadeite.

"Don't remind me!" I groaned.

Jadeite released my hand and smiled in return. "I'll pick you up next Saturday at seven-thirty" I could hear his feet shifting by listening to the creaky floorboards of my front porch.

"That sounds great. Goodnight," I said, turning the key in my lock, shaking my head at myself. I hoped that I wouldn't ruin the next date, or that it wouldn't ruin itself. Maybe I'd get lucky and have a good time after all. _"Anything's possible, right?" _I thought.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted when I heard Jadeite say, "Goodnight, Rei. Sweet dreams." Still shaking, I clenched my fist, ready to give him a good talking to. How _dare_ he scare me like that! I was going to give him a piece of my mind. Resolved, I whirled around, but by then he was already driving off. Mumbling about the injustice of the Universe, I stalked off to bed. It was going to be a _long_ six months.


	3. Leading Yourself On

35 Millimeters III: Fisheye Lens

By Lady Aishiteru

Chapter Three: Leading Yourself On

I sighed involuntarily and tucked my hair underneath my ear. I glanced at Ms. Tenshi Takanada, the slightly overweight woman who sat across from me; fortunately, she was oblivious. Tenshi's continued discourse about how she suspected her boyfriend Tenko was cheating really wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her, even though her half-baked theories were very seldom based in reality. She's exhibited signs of paranoia and fear of rejection since day one, and that usually didn't bother me. I'm a licensed therapist; listening is part of my job description. I've always been fascinated with other people's problems. It makes me feel that much better that I'm helping other people make more sense of their lives, even if I can't make sense of my own.

"I mean, I feel like I don't even know who he is anymore, you know what I'm saying?" Tenshi mused. I nodded, motioning for her to continue. "He's been leaving these weird messages on my voice mail."

"What messages would those be?" I asked, jotting notes down on my clipboard. Although the notes didn't appear make that much difference in the long run, they were actually very important. The notes were far more reliable than my memory, and with said notes I could check up on my patient's progress, or in this case, lack thereof. Besides, my note taking had the added bonus of reassuring my clients that I was listening.

"Well, he keeps saying that wants to take our relationship to the next level. What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" I asked, moving my pencil rapidly across the paper. The lead broke just as I was crossing my last "t", and I groaned in frustration. I must have been pressing too hard on the edge of the mechanical pencil. I pushed on the eraser end impatiently with my thumb and after I heard the satisfying click of the lead inside its shaft, I finished the sentence.

This topic was getting a little too close to my own life for comfort. Hearing about the trials and tribulation of other people's lives usually makes my own problems seem farther away, but right now it was bringing my own problems into focus, deep down worries and what ifs that I'd rather not think about. What if the impossible actually happened and Jadeite ever wanted to make our fake relationship a reality? What would I tell him then, that I was never interested in the first place? Didn't he already know that? I cringed; there was no way I wanted to deal with that. Pushing my thoughts aside for the moment, I resumed listening to my client.

Tenshi frowned and chewed on her lip. "Well, we've been seeing each other for three years now. Maybe he's finally thinking about getting engaged. Oh, do you think it could be that? I hope so, because I really do lo-"

I heard a beep and then glanced down at my watch and smiled. It was five o' clock in the evening, which signaled that our session was over. _"Good,"_ I thought, smiling. _"Just in time. I'd rather hear anything but the l-word._" "I'm sorry, Tenshi, it looks like our session is up. Maybe we can start this up again next week."

Tenshi sighed and frowned as if she was really disappointed. "Has it really been an hour? I didn't even notice." She picked up her purse from her seat next to her and flicked her shoulder length violet hair over her shoulder. "Can you at least wish me luck?" I nodded and congenially shook her hand, then wished her the best of fortunes.

After she left the room, I let out a huge sigh. I was glad that this day was over and that I wouldn't have to deal with men or relationships for at least another twenty-four hours. My second date with Jadeite was scheduled to take place the following day at precisely seven-thirty. I rolled my eyes as close to the back of my head as I could. Did I really want to spend another night with this Lord of the Louvre? I concluded that I'd rather watch paint peel. Replaying the date in my mind, I recalled Jadeite's spastic thrashing which bore no resemblance whatsoever to dancing in front of the stage at _The Bug Jar_ and an involuntary giggle escaped my lips. Actually, watching Jadeite head banging was pretty funny.

Maybe the girls would get a kick out of hearing about my date, that is if Minako would ever let me live down that I asked her for information about a bachelor auction. Don't ask me how I knew that she'd be informed about anything like that; it was more of a sixth sense than anything else. I swear that if there were anything going on in Tokyo that featured men, she'd have known all about it. What was even more embarrassing about the incident was that she told Usagi about it, who probably felt the need to tell Mamoru about the whole thing so she could "make sure that hot looking blond is in the auction." I shook my head to myself as I turned the key in my car's ignition. I knew that I wouldn't be able to look Mamoru in the eye for at least a week.

I pulled my car into park and strolled into the Soda Shoppe, bells ringing in my wake. Usagi sat alone at a small table, swinging her legs and happily consuming a triple fudge sundae as if it were the best tasting thing ever. She's been like that as long as I'd known her; completely enthusiastic about everything that she did, especially when it comes to food.

"Hey, Usagi. How's it going?" I asked, sitting down on a chair next to hers. I motioned for Motoki to bring me a diet cola with a lemon. He nodded and rushed off. I've come to the Soda Shoppe so often that I didn't need to put my order into words anymore.

"Couldn't be better, and you?" Usagi responded as she turned her head towards me.

I sighed and fiddled with a strand of hair, twirling it around my index finger. "Don't ask."

"Why, is anything wrong?" Usagi asked between bites of her sundae.

"Nothing in particular. I had a long day at work, that's all," I said, concluding with a forced laugh. What I had said about work was true; I did have a long day. It's just that my job wasn't what was really bothering me at the moment.

"Baloney," she said. "You've always been a horrible liar."

I scoffed. Rolling my eyes, I retorted with the ever popular, "I am not."

Choosing not to press the subject, she instead chewed on her lip and asked, "So, how did your date with Jadeite go?"

I laughed. "It was pretty awkward. That's the last time I let Minako talk me into anything that has something to do with music."

"You mean you didn't like _The Bug Jar?_" Usagi asked, licking some extra fudge off her spoon. "Minako spoke so highly about it."

"Let's just say that a _Metallica_ tribute band isn't exactly my idea of good folk music," I said, laughing. "Watching Jadeite do an air guitar in his Armani suit was pretty funny, though."

Usagi laughed in return. "I'll bet."

As if on cue, Minako walked into the restaurant, sporting an oversized pair of sunglasses, a little black dress, heavy makeup and the most ridiculous redheaded wig I have ever seen. I guess it comes with the territory with her being a supermodel and all. Still, if she was striving to create a new trend, couldn't she have picked a better wig?

"Hi, guys. What's going on?" asked Minako, glancing over her shoulder as if she suspected that she was being watched.

"Nothing much," replied Usagi. "We were just sitting down to eat."

"Cool," Minako returned. She pulled a seat up to the bar stool and relaxed her posture slightly.

"Minako, I have to ask. What's with the wig?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. _"This had better be good,_" I thought.

"Those damned tabloid reporters have really been getting on my case lately. I figured this might throw them off...for a week or two, anyways," Minako replied, grinning sardonically.

"Ah. Makes sense," I conceded. She looked like she was about to say something in her defense when I concluded with, "Red really isn't your color, though."

Ever the mature supermodel, Minako stuck her tongue out at me. Hey, a girl can be concerned about her friend's fading fashion sense, can't she?

"Hey Ames!" Usagi called out. "How's business going?"

"You've asked her that every day, you meatball head. She probably doesn't want to talk about her job!" I said. Not everyone wants to be defined by his or her chosen career path. I'm sure Minako would attest to that. Model or not, she's always been just plain Minako to her friends.

"I don't mind at all," Ami said, and she happily added, "I love my job."

Usagi glared at me as if to say "Ha!" and then she turned again to face Ami. "Any interesting customers?"

"No, not really," Ami said sheepishly.

We all recognized that look. Ami was hiding something, and if I had learned anything about her in the years I had known her, this one was something big. Plus, Ami turns as red as a tomato whenever she tells even the slightest fib. Ami's utter transparency never ceased to amaze me.

"Come on, Ames. Who is he?" asked Minako.

"What makes you think it's a guy?" asked Makoto.

"I _know_ these things, people," Minako responded imperiously.

"Oh yeah," Makoto said, rolling her eyes. "The self-proclaimed Goddess Of Love is at it again."

"Well, have I ever been wrong before?" replied Minako, seeking to affirm her oh-so-perfect record of matchmaking.

At this, the three of us looked down at our hands, not wanting to admit that she was right. During the past year, Minako has put more credits to her status as a master matchmaker. As it turns out, Makoto _was_ secretly in love with her best friend, Nephrite. She saw the truth even when nobody else could. I'd be willing to bet that she even considers Jadeite and I a success story, even though that's hardly the case.

"So there," Minako concluded, her arms crossed over her chest. "Anyways, you're not fooling anyone. I know that look…you're hiding something." Minako added, shaking a perfectly manicured finger at our crimson friend.

"Out with it lady," said Usagi.

"Yeah, Tokyo wants to know," added Makoto.

"All right, all right. He said his name was Zoisite."

"What does he look like?" Minako asked.

"Well, he is one of my clients, so I have his picture in my car. Want me to go get it, guys?"

"Yeah!" chorused everyone else except for me. I lost interest as soon as it was confirmed that this was all about some guy. Having nothing better to do, I silently sipped my soda.

All too soon, Ami returned to our table, and she was still pretty rosy. "What took you?" asked Usagi.

"Yeah, is he a dog or something?" asked Makoto.

Ami fiddled with a manila folder she was holding when a male voice said, "So these are your friends, Ami?"

I smiled as Minako's jaw nearly caved in on itself. Even I had to admit that this guy was rather attractive. He had the same body type as Jadeite, except Zoisite was a little shorter, and his blond hair was pulled into a loose, crimped ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Quiet bunch, eh?" remarked the man.

"Guys, this is Zoisite. He's one of my clients. Zoisite, this is Usagi, Minako, Makoto and Rei," said Ami. "They're not always this quiet," she added.

"I see," he said. "Mind if I join you ladies?"

"Not at all," Minako said after she had regained her usual slight control over her hormones. Ami glared daggers in Minako's direction, but our clueless friend simply winked back in reply. Zoisite pulled up a chair across from Ami, next to me.

"Hi, would you all like to order?" asked the waitress.

I zoned out after that; the rest of the meal consisted of nothing but corporate shoptalk and stolen glances between Ami and Zoisite. As much as Ami tried to hide it, even the waitress could tell that Ami's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere possibility of a romance between her and a new client, Zoisite. Maybe she had fallen in love.

After the meal was over, I smiled as I watched Zoisite follow Ami to her car. Briefly, I wondered if things might take a more romantic turn between Jadeite and I. I dismissed that thought within a second. There was no danger of that happening to me, and for that, I was more than thankful.

The moment Jadeite walked into the museum he was transfixed. "Have you ever seen such remarkable beauty?" he murmured absently.

I followed his gaze to see what it was that had captured Jadeite's attention. It was a seven by ten foot canvas that was covered by nothing but splattered paint. I peered intently at the chaotic mess on the wall, looking very closely at the spatters of teal and black intermingled with orange and white. It looked like some five year old had loaded a powerful squirt gun with paint and went to town on somebody's canvas. Picturing it, I snickered a little. The parents of this Jackson Pollock could not have been very happy with the destruction of their art space. I'd have been willing to bet that Jackson was in very deep trouble when his father came home.

"What's so funny?" Jadeite asked, raising his eyebrow.

Trying in vain to regain my composure while shakily pointing at the monstrosity in front of me, I sputtered out, "_That!_" Jadeite blinked at me as if I was from outer space. In an effort to clarify, I added, "How can _that_ have made it into a museum? I could do the same thing in my sleep."

"Actually, Jackson had a meticulous method behind this apparent madness," began Jadeite. "He was in complete control. One of his methods was to would place a wooden trowel inside the bucket and then to lift the bucket from the ground, creating a stream of paint droplets that would reach the canvas. He was more interested in the motions of painting than the object itself." Jadeite turned his gaze from me to the painting as if he couldn't tear himself away from it. "Jackson believed that each canvas had a mind of its own and that he was helping it to manifest itself. Perhaps the repetitive turbulence and lack of compositional form are indicative of his inner turmoil. If you look really closely, you can see the print of his hands on the upper right."

Having concluded his mini lecture, Jadeite scanned my face for a reaction. Not wanting to disappoint, I stepped about two feet to the side, then stood on my tiptoes to see if I could find the hand print of this alleged artist. Facing off against the foul canvas, I crossed my arms over my chest and squinted intently at the upper right corner. After about a minute of searching, I saw what looked like a pair of handprints, each one pointing upwards and outside of the painting…but for all I could tell, they could be another set of paint splatters. I smirked; this Jackson Pollock had a strange way of signing his paintings.

"I think I see them. Are those the handprints?" I asked, pointing to the globs of paint on the corner.

"Probably," said Jadeite, smiling. "It's kind of unexpected that he would turn his left hand palm face up before pressing it down on the canvas," Jadeite said, turning his left hand to mimic the gesture. "Then again, maybe he used his right hand. He'd have to crawl all over the bottom of the painting to use his left. I don't think humans bend that way."

"Can we please move on to another section?" I groaned. I should have known that I was going to regret this.

"Not a fan of abstract expressionism, I presume?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling into a gentle smile.

I nodded vigorously. "Not in the slightest. I like paintings and sculptures that look like people, places and things."

"I see," he said. "You like paintings that you can relate to on a personal level."

"No, that's not it at all. I know what I like, and _that_ is not it," I said, pointing backwards to the painting we were just looking at. I glanced at the title on the tag; apparently this ungodly conglomeration of paint and canvas was called _Lavender Mist: Number 1_. I rolled my eyes. That idiotic Pollock couldn't even come up with a good title.

"I can see how the randomness of the painting might startle the viewer," Jadeite said as if he hadn't heard me. "_Lavender Mist: Number 1_ has no face, no meaning, and no story. When Jackson Pollock was still alive, _Time_ Magazine called him 'Jack the Dripper," finished Jadeite, a wry grin making its way from the edge of his lips to his eyes.

I laughed. "The title seems to fit," I said.

Jadeite chuckled in response. "Well, these paintings are hard to get used to. One might say that they're an acquired taste, kind of like hummus."

"It looks like hummus," I said, giggling a bit.

"With a sprig or two of parsley," he added, joining in. "For color, of course."

I laughed, and the abstract paintings began to trail off behind us. Before I knew it, we were in another section of the museum. "Well, here we are, at the Greek art section."

I barely heard him; my attention was quickly diverted from him to the many nude sculptures of well-muscled men and voluptuous women. Some were cast in marble while others shone with a metallic luster. Men stood before the viewer in a variety of poses, some dynamic and others relaxed. My eyes were drawn to a man standing about ready to throw a discus. His arm was stretched back, and his eyes were fixed forward, and every muscle in his body was on display. Women leaned casually on marble pillars, apparently not concerned that their togas had slid off their bodies or were in the process of losing the fight against gravity. Blushing, my hand moved up my shoulder to adjust my bra strap.

"Is something bothering you?" asked Jadeite. He raised his eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in what I guessed to be a strange combination of amusement and concern.

"Me? Nah," I said, but as I spoke, I was pushing the button into the hole under the collar of my shirt. "What makes you say that?" I said, my voice cracking like some middle school choirboy.

"Oh, I get it. You haven't seen this before, have you?" asked Jadeite, who had a smirk on his face that I wanted to grind out with the heel of my shoe.

"Don't be silly," I said, forcing out laughter. "I see that when I look in the mirror," I said, indicating one of the lounging nymphs of the atrium.

"That's not what I meant," said Jadeite, still smirking. "I figured you'd be the coy vixen type."

"Not my style," I said, glaring at him as best as I could with a tomato-red face. Why couldn't he just drop it?

Jadeite smiled like some blasted guru who had just attained enlightenment. "I see."

Crossing my arms over my well-covered chest, I ground out, "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Jadeite, suppressing a chuckle.

"No, tell me," I insisted, moving my right hand to settle on my extended hip.

"You've never been with a man, have you?" he said, his smile wavering a bit.

"I'm sorry I asked," I retorted, my eyes narrowing into slits. "Can we go now? I suddenly have a headache."

"That's too bad," said Jadeite, reaching into his pocket.

"Why? What did you have in mind?" I asked, not that I cared.

He pulled two slips of paper out of his pocket. "This," he said, grinning. I smiled in response. It actually wasn't a bad idea.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of _Tuxedo Mirage Dance Studio._ I threw my coat into the coatroom and crossed the carpeted alcove after Jadeite handed the tickets to a short, willowy woman that stood behind a wooden podium. It was a typical ballet studio with wooden beams nailed to the back, and the ground was polished wood, perfect for freedom of movement. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, and light danced across the mirrored walls. A tall, slender man in a modestly priced, yet elegant suit stood in the center of the room.

Jadeite took my hand and led me towards the center. The instructor snapped his shapely fingers, and the lesson began. Soon, jazzy tunes filled the air, and with that, I learned how to swing dance.

"You seem to have a knack for this," Jadeite said as he twirled me around on his arm.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself," I responded, my heels punctuating my sentence by tapping against the hardwood floor.

"Well, this would go a bit better if you'd let me lead every now and again," he joked, winking for effect.

"But you _are_ leading!" I said.

"Ah, so you've noticed," he said, pulling me under his legs.

I rolled my eyes as I glided over the ground. "You jackass," I said when we were face to face again, but I was smiling.

Suddenly, the music slowed down and the disco lights swirled around my shoulders in a heady twirl.

"I thought this was swing dancing," I said, frowning. I didn't like the looks of this one bit.

"It's ballroom," said Jadeite, his face carefully free from expression. "Well, shall we?" he said, extending his arm. Feeling a little guilty, I took it. Had I hurt his feelings?

"So," I said, after Jadeite helped me into the car, "If you were stranded at a desert island and you could have one record, one book and one person, what would you pick?"

He closed the door and stared at the road as if he was in deep thought. After about a minute of silence, he said, "_Stairway to Heaven_, _The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, _and Mamoru."

I raised my eyebrow. "Mamoru. Really." I deadpanned.

"Yeah, if anyone could get us off that stupid island, it would be him!" He slapped the wheel with his right hand and laughed. I glared at him and kept quiet, letting my silence do the talking. Just when the atmosphere had become a little too awkward, Jadeite said, "Let me guess yours. I'll bet I can get it right on the first try."

"Okay. Knock yourself out, genius," I replied, grinning sardonically.

"Hm… I think I've got it." Jadeite paused for about a second, but I could tell that it was an act. "_A Day Without Rain_, _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_, and me."

I laughed. "_You_? Don't flatter yourself."

Jadeite clutched his chest with his left hand in mock pain. "I'm hurt," he said, his lip wobbling dramatically.

"Other than that, not too bad," I admitted.

"So what were your choices?" he asked, his right hand resting on the cushion that divided the car seats.

"_Surfacing_, _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_, and as for the person, I'd pick Howard Schultz," I informed.

"Howard Schultz?" he asked, stupefied.

"He's the founder of Starbucks," I imperiously imparted. Who else could he be?

He chuckled. "I should have guessed by all of the frappucino bottles lining your condo."

"I'll have you know that my apartment is _spotless_, mister!" I cried, gesturing wildly. Hey, a girl's home is her castle, and I had to defend my turf.

"I don't know…" he trailed off, grinning.

"Well, keep this up and you won't be seeing it again anytime soon," I snapped.

"But I've never seen anything past the doorway. Nice wood paneling, by the way." He offered as a clumsy peacemaking gesture.

"Doorway? You're lucky you saw that," I retorted.

"Speaking of which, I believe we have arrived, milady," he said, pulling the car into park next to the curb. He lifted his foot from the brake and stepped out of the car. "So," he said, lifting my arm, "Shall I give you another handshake?"

"Sure," I said, feeling a bit uncertain. "I guess so."

Once we arrived at the door, he turned to face me again, smiling like the Cheshire cat. I didn't like it; he was up to something. Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand, pulled me in and placed a peck on my cheek. "Goodnight, Rei," he said, his gaze lingering after his lips were lifted from my cheek.

"Goodnight," I muttered tersely. He walked away slowly, as if reluctant to leave. Having other ideas, I closed the door and stomped up the stairs.

"_If he ever does that again, I'll…I'll…"_ I sputtered angrily, and then I sighed in defeat. I racked my brains for five minutes for the answer as I carefully washed my cheek. I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself, but I honestly had no idea what I'd do.

_Author's Note: _Lavender Mist: Number 1_ is a real painting. I actually like it, from what I can tell by seeing a miniature version of it that fits on my monitor. The life of Pollock, which was just as colorful as his paintings, which was cut short by a car accident that took place in 1956. If you've got the time, I would also suggest renting the film about his life entitled simply _Pollock_. It doesn't say everything about his mental illness or alcoholism, though it strongly alludes to both. If you want to get that in depth, read a book at the library. _


	4. Gods, Are You There? It's Me, Rei

35 Millimeters III: Fisheye Lens

By Lady Aishiteru

Chapter Four: Gods, Are You There? It's Me, Rei

Jadeite arrived early that Saturday afternoon dressed to the nines. He was wearing a slate blue Armani suit with a powder blue tie and a navy blue vest. "Geez, you didn't have to dress up that much," I admonished him as he stepped out of the car.

He responded with that quirky, lopsided grin of his and jerked his head back slightly. "Come on, is that any way to greet your fiancé, especially when he's going to meet your grandpa? I even got my car waxed for the occasion."

"He's not really that into things like that," I said, gesturing with my hands. "Besides, things would go better if you wore this." I held up a large robe with a white top and flowing red, pleated bottom.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "What on Earth is that?"

"This, which you should know about by now, would be a Shinto priest's robe. Everyone wears them at the shrine. Besides...I kinda told Grandpa that you're proficient in our religion," I said, chewing my lip nervously. "What religion are you, anyway?"

"Me? I'm not particularly religious...in fact, I'm an agnostic," he said, letting the hated "a" word fall to the pavement like the ton of bricks that it was.

"Great. Just frickin' great. I'm taking my fiancé to meet my deeply religious forbear and he's one step up from atheism? Spirits, why do you hate me so?" I moaned to the cloudless skies, clenching my fists. Well, was it my fault that Jadeite was such a heathen?

"Relax. It can't be all that bad. I'll put on the robes and wave some funny papers around. How hard could it be?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

I smacked my forehead. This was going to be a long day. I shoved my robe and Jadeite's into his arms, and then flounced angrily into the front seat of his car. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I mumbled tersely, crossing my arms under my chest and staring out the window.

"Well, you said we're going to have to see your grandfather...you know, to ease his mind and all," he said, opening the back door. He took the abused robes and laid them gently onto the back seat, then climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door softly.

"We're going to have to act...you know...couple-y," I said, blushing slightly.

I could see Jadeite raising his eyebrow as he turned the key in the ignition. "Couple-y?"

"You know," I said, attempting eye contact and staring at his chin instead, "like a couple."

"Well, we are engaged," he said, grinning.

"In his eyes, yeah...anyways, just hold my hand and stuff."

"That's it?" he asked, shifting the car into drive. Did I hear a slight hint of disappointment in his voice? Nah. I had to be imagining things.

"Well, yeah. What were you expecting?" I said, feeling my face flush an even deeper shade of red. I turned my head so I was facing the window, not wanting him to see how embarrassed I was.

"Oh, I see." he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Knock it off, you jackass," I snapped, unfolding then refolding my arms.

"All of this verbal abuse. I'm not even married to you and I'm already getting henpecked! Man!" He tried to act like he was frustrated, but I could see that smile. He must be a terrible poker player.

After a few more minutes of coaching, Jadeite pulled into the Cherry Hill Shrine. "Well, this is it," I said.

"Remember what I told you," I said as he helped me out the passenger side door.

"Smile and nod?" he joked feebly, scratching his head with the arm that wasn't holding onto the robes.

I smacked my forehead again. "I have to stop doing that. I might start to like it," I thought to myself, smiling slightly.

"This is the tori," I said to Jadeite as we passed through a large, ornamental wooden gate that towered above us. "It represents the gateway to the gods, the pathway between the finite world that we live in and the realm of the divine."

"Which god, or gods, is this shrine dedicated to?" asked Jadeite. I smiled slightly; at least he was trying.

"This is more of a culture center, actually. We don't aim to convert anyone to Shintoism, but we do wish to educate those who are willing. We believe here that a greater connection to and awareness of the natural world can do much to foster anyone's sense of peace. If this shrine is dedicated to anyone, it's my great-grandpa, who built it. "

"He did an excellent job. This really is a beautiful place," said Jadeite. We stood alone in the midst of a large courtyard that was loosely paved with the cobblestones of the land. Cherry trees in various heights and sizes framed the pavement, and in the midst of all this stood a modest bathhouse that held a bath and a washbasin, and an ornate temple. I took a deep breath and inhaled the fragrance; the cherry trees were blooming especially well this year. Bits of blue sky peeked in from in between the trees, completing the illusory isolation from the day-to-day life of downtown Tokyo.

"We'll have to check in at the bathhouse before seeing Grandpa," I said matter-of-factly.

"Why, to change?" asked Jadeite.

"It's ritualistic," I explained. "One of the Four Affirmations of our religion is good hygiene. When my great-grandpa built shrine, we used to make people take baths in there before entering the temple. Now we just make people wash their hands and gargle with mouthwash."

"Ah," said Jadeite, grinning a bit.

"What?" I asked, gripping the robes a bit tighter.

"Here I thought I'd have the opportunity to strip. Another time, perhaps," he said, smirking evilly.

I smacked him upside the head for that remark. "Hey, I thought your faith was benevolent!"

"This isn't a fertility temple, you creep!" I yelled, scaring several birds out of their perches in the nearby cherry trees.

"Sorry," he said, even though it was obvious that he wasn't. "So, should I get changed first?" Jadeite asked, rubbing the spot on his cheek where my hand had found its mark.

"That would be a good start," I said, relaxing a little as I handed him his robe. "I'll get changed after you." He was about to open the sliding screen door when I called out, "You might want to clean your mouth out while you're in there."

"Why's that?" he yelled back. "I know you're into dental hygiene, but I brushed my teeth before I left my apartment."

"To clean out your dirty mouth!" I snapped back.

In response, he turned around and beamed a toothy grin before sliding the door shut. I waited for what seemed like ages, and after he exited, I shut the door behind myself to change.

"I can't believe the nerve of that creep! How dare he make those insinuations!" I thought to myself. "I mean, we're not really engaged! He's almost acting as if he's attracted to me or something." Just as I was about to step into the robe, I paused in mid-motion. "Yeah. Almost." I shakily concluded, tying the red sash snugly across my body, securing the robe.

After rinsing out my mouth, I shut the door behind me and walked over to Jadeite slowly, my face carefully expressionless. "What?" he asked me.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit nervous, that's all," I said honestly, though I had mixed opinions on what exactly I was nervous about. Smiling at my small admission, Jadeite squeezed my hand.

Bracing myself for the worst, I walked slowly up the steps, Jadeite matching my pace behind me. I was completely unprepared for what I saw when I pushed open the screen door. Expecting calm and tranquility, I heard "Hey Mickey" blasting at top volume - from Yuiichirou's playlist, no doubt - and felt the worn, wooden floor vibrate with each stomp that came from the center of the room, where a short, elderly man wearing a blue leotard, pastel yellow leg warmers, matching wristbands and a kerchief was doing jumping jacks. "GRANDPA?" I yelled above the noise. "What are you doing?"

He raised his bushy, white eyebrows and wiped the sweat off his bald head. After turning the music down to a more bearable level, well, as bearable as the works of Toni Basil can be anyways, he strode confidently to where Jadeite and I stood dumbfounded. I expected peace, quiet, and to see my ailing grandfather resting silently on his bed. How and why was he blasting his stupid 80's noise and doing aerobics?

"Ah, hello," he said, thrusting his hand in Jadeite's direction, who mutely shook it. "So this is your young man?

"Don't avoid my question!" I said, arms akimbo. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Well, a guy has to keep in shape, you know, eh?" He elbowed Jadeite, who merely chuckled in response.

"Of course, Grandpa," he said.

"Besides, I feel fine," he said, sticking his chest out for effect. Grandpa is such a drama king. "So who is this young fellow?"

"This is Jadeite, my fiancé," I said, adding emphasis on the last word.

"Fiancé, eh? Good luck then, son," Grandpa replied, reaching up to pat Jadeite on the shoulder in fake consolation.

My face instantly turned three shades of red as my posture stiffened. "You are instantly the most irritating individual I have ever met!" I shouted, stamping my feet.

"I love you too, Rei," he said, planting a kiss on my tomato red cheek. "So, how long have you been dating?"

I elbowed Jadeite, forcing him to reply. "About a month."

"Don't you think you're taking it pretty fast?" he said, wrinkling his eyebrows together in concern.

"Well, I took one look at her and I knew she was the one. She's...she's really something," he finished, giving me a strange look I hadn't expected.

"And you're not so bad yourself," I said, winking.

Jadeite said nothing, but swept his glance from my eyes to my mouth, and then back again. His fingers brushed my own. My first impulse was to smack him in the face, but I knew I had to make this look authentic. My face flushed a deep red, but whether it was out of anger or attraction I couldn't guess. I grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"So tell me more about this temple. When was it built?" asked Jadeite.

I smiled, thankful that at the very least, Jadeite was being respectful, and even inquisitive. All I could do was to nod periodically and pretend I was listening, and look at everything in the room except Jadeite's eyes, anything but that scorching expression that somehow drew me in. I was relieved that my part of the conversation had ended, because my powers of speech were all but gone. Grandpa rattled on and on about great-grandpa's anecdotes about building the shrine, what process and materials they used and things of that sort, but I wasn't listening; I had heard that story a thousand times already. It didn't matter anyways. My thoughts were a million miles away.

"Can I see you to your door?" Jadeite asked, putting the car into park on the curbside closest to my apartment.

"Why ask that? You've seen it enough times," I snapped without thinking. Feeling repentant, I held out my arm, and Jadeite took it; then for a reason I couldn't explain, my stiff muscles instantly relaxed. My heart rate didn't, however; at this point, I didn't know what to expect.

Finally, we stopped at the door. "Well, this is it, Jadeite. End of the line." Seeking to narrow the odds, I slipped my arm from his and turned my key in the lock. It only got three quarters of the way before I felt a hand running through my hair, stopping me in my tracks.

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?" Jadeite murmured into my ear. He posed the question in an almost teasing manner, but there was a serious undercurrent that stated that he meant business. The thought of that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Was it cold outside? I hadn't noticed.

"Inside, to bed" I responded, and I added, lest there be any doubts, "Alone."

"Sleeping alone, eh? Well, this will give you something to dream about." Without any further warning, he teased my lower lip with his own, gently pulling them open.

"Jadeite, what do you think you're doing?" I demanded. "What if people see us?"

"Just this," he responded. He turned me around like a swing dancer would twirl his partner so I was facing him. He placed a butterfly kiss on each corner of my lip as if testing me, teasing me. I wanted to duck away and then run off screaming into the night like some kind of crazed banshee, but my legs seemed have a will of their own to remain firmly planted on the ground, not moving an inch. "Rei Hino, how do you get yourself into these things?" I wondered, and that was my last coherent thought before his lips formed a loose, elastic seal over my own. Then I did the unthinkable; I actually kissed him back. I actually had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed about right somehow.

After what seemed like an eternity and a split second at the same time, Jadeite drew back, breaking the kiss. "Goodnight, Rei," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Goodnight, Jadeite," I mumbled. I entered my apartment, then slid down from the door in shock. "Maybe," I thought, licking my lips, "maybe we aren't pretending anymore."


	5. Denial: It's Not Just A River Anymore

35 Millimeters III: Fisheye Lens

By Lady Aishiteru

Chapter 5: Denial: It's Not Just A River Anymore

Makoto glared at Usagi from the far end of a billiards table. "You ready to lose, Usagi?" she challenged.

"_Never!_ You're just…lucky!" she yelled, partially because it was a bit loud in the bar, and partially in a display of pointless bravado.

It was Tuesday night, a girl's night out. We had decided to shoot a game of pool over at _The Bug Jar_, which was a big mistake for Usagi and Ami. They were losing horribly. Ami had sunk only one solid herself, and Usagi did far worse. She was so bad at playing pool that it almost hurt to watch her. Whenever Usagi had a turn, the cue ball made a beeline for one of the pockets, hopped off the table altogether, or bounced uselessly around the sides. I wished that I had brought my camera.

It was a perfect distraction from a few nights ago. As far as I was concerned, that kiss had _not_ happened. Especially not twice. It was all a very strange dream, one that I was due to wake up from any day. But why did my lips tingle every time I thought about it? Why did my skin shiver oh-so-pleasantly at the remembrance of his touch?

I wanted a pretend relationship, not a real one. Didn't Jadeite know that? I had made my intentions perfectly clear from the beginning. I know I did. How did things turn out like this? Why did my life have to be so complicated? I shook my head at myself. Only I would contemplate ending a phony courtship.

I brought my attention back to the present, where Makoto was squinting her eyes and sticking out her tongue a bit. "Are you ready for this?" she said, winking over at Usagi. She turned around and stuck her arms over her chest in an exaggerated grunt. The cue ball shot straight at the seven like it was a missile, and with that, the last of the solids rolled into the corner pocket. _"That girl's _good_,"_ I thought to myself, my raised eyebrows the only indicator that I was impressed.

Makoto was a regular pool shark; she learned everything she knew from Nephrite. I wasn't doing too badly. I had sunk one or two, and I scratched one. Nothing to write home about.

I grinned and gave Makoto a high five. "All right! Way to go!"

Makoto made a bow. "Thanks coach! I do what I can for the team. Now, if only the Gipper had been here to see this…" she said, trailing off. She wiped a pretend tear from her eye.

I chuckled at her American football player act bit despite myself. Makoto was too much, really. "Would you like to make the next shot, Coach?" she asked me.

I almost said no, but then I noticed how she had lined up the shot perfectly for me. The eight ball was right in front of the corner pocket, with the cue ball scant inches away from it, and at a perfect angle, no less. I couldn't lose. "Sure," I said, grinning.

"Aren't you going to call it?" Makoto grinned at me.

I laughed. "Hm. Well, I just don't know. Should I call center, or should I just say that I'm going to scratch? Aw, the heck with it. Eight ball, corner pocket." I grinned, and picked up the cue in preparation to line up my shot.

Somehow, I must have tapped the eight ball too hard, because the cue ball bounced against the sides of the pocket, but didn't sink. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I didn't scratch. But how in the heck did I miss that one? Irritated, I blew a stray hair out of my face.

Usagi smiled over at me with her best patronizing grin. "Tough break, Rei," she said, her voice oozing with fake sympathy. "Now watch a pro!" she crowed triumphantly.

I walked over to Makoto, and whispered in her ear, "I had no idea _you_ were up next." She giggled, but was otherwise silent.

Getting into the whole "football" theme, Usagi smacked Ami on the butt, hard. "You're up! Go get 'em tiger!"

Ami glared at Usagi, all the while rubbing her sore bottom. "Ow! That hurt!"

Usagi had the grace to grin sheepishly "Sorry. Guess I got carried away there."

Ami harrumphed at her overzealous teammate and began setting up the shot.

Just then, I saw the door start to open. Something told me that I didn't want to see who was about to walk in. Sure enough, Jadeite walked into the bar, took off his jacket and began scanning the bar, most likely for familiar faces. Was he looking for me?

My blood turned to ice right there and then. "Oh no…" I mumbled. I dropped my pool cue and ran into the bathroom.

I heard Jadeite's voice from outside the doorway. "Um…Hello?" I nodded, blushing furiously but saying nothing and not moving an inch.

I heard something like a sigh, and then Ami's voice from the other end of the door. "I guess that's game."

A bright, chipper voice chimed in, "Well, at least we won!"

I smiled. I could practically see the other two smacking their foreheads. "Okay, Usagi, let me explain a little bit more about the game of billiards, and why it is that you did _not_ win the game," said Makoto.

"What?" asked Usagi. "It was clearly a forfeit!"

After that, no more voices came from the pool table. She had them there.

With no more distractions from the peanut gallery, I began to think about my mother. I visualized a time that I had snuck out of bed because I smelled tempura shrimp. I poked my head out from the corner of the hallway, and I saw candles burning on the table. Glasses sat at opposite ends, filled with a mysterious liquid from the cabinet that my father had always kept locked.

I was about to rush in and sneak a sushi roll from the table when I saw Mother coming to the table from the kitchen. Then I saw my father come in the front door. I flattened myself against the wall, not willing to be caught.

I heard Father's footsteps going towards his home office. The coat closet had been undisturbed. I knew because it had a creaky hinge that Father never bothered to fix. Father's dress shoes clicked impatiently against the hardwood floors, as if he hadn't stopped to take them off, and then I heard the sound of papers rustling.

Mother called him over from the table. "Honey, aren't you going to stay for dinner? I made it special, just for the two of us."

I heard a pause in the shuffling, and then it resumed. "No, I've got a big meeting at work. I could get a promotion if this deal goes through."

Mother protested, "But I've made your favorite. And look! There's also sake, tempura ice cream and miso soup. Your favorite."

The rustling sounds stopped altogether, and I heard the sound of something snapping shut. Now that I think of it, it was probably his briefcase. Then I heard Father's footsteps start again, then stop. "My mind is made up," he said firmly.

"But we never spend time together! At least talk for a second!" exclaimed Mother.

I stuck my head out from the corner just in time to see the front door opening, and Father walking out, his head down to the ground. Mother poured herself a glass of sake and put some sushi on her plate, but she just pushed it around with her chopsticks. I remember wondering why she had food on her plate if she wasn't going to eat any. And then she poured another glass of sake. And another. After awhile, she cried herself to sleep, face down on her supper dish.

After awhile, Mother stopped trying. I remembered nights where Father would watch TV and Mother would wash dishes. Both were silent. She'd pretend it didn't bother her, but it really ate Mother up inside. Father was out later and later at work. Father eventually stopped coming home.

Years later, when I was about eleven, Mother became ill. They never said what her illness was. The doctors couldn't find the cause of the problem. Her body became weaker and weaker. Mystified, the doctors sent Mother home. I spent the last few months of Mother's life waiting on her hand and foot. Father didn't even have the decency to attend her funeral. He sent one of his associates to do it. Despicable bastard.

I clenched my fist. If that's what love is, what love does to you, then I want no part of it. I refuse to end up like my mother, wasting her nights away sobbing into a pillow, crying out, "Why?" I refuse to fall in love.

My vehement resolutions were rudely interrupted when I felt a push against the door I was leaning on. Jadeite walked into bathroom, a concerned look on his face.

"Rei!" He exclaimed.

I gulped. All six foot two of him seemed to tower over me, making the bathroom seem incredibly small all of a sudden. He was wearing a T-shirt that clung to his musculature slightly, and a pair of faded blue jeans. His normally curly hair looked slightly wavy, as if he had been running his hands through it. And his eyes were filled with so much that I had to turn away. I felt my clothes becoming damp with sweat, but I wasn't going to let him see it. I broke out into a fake smile and tilted my head to the left. "What are you doing in the ladies' room? Is there something I don't know about you?" I said.

"I'm not in the mood for your acerbic wit right now, Rei. I just want to talk to you!" Jadeite ran his hands over his head, gripping his hair as he went. "Why are you intent on pushing me away?"

As I stood silently, Jadeite stepped in between the door and me. "Can't we just talk like normal people?"

"No," I said grumpily.

"Ah, so she speaks!" said Jadeite. His hands rose and then fell from his sides, making a distinct smacking sound.

"Don't get clever with me," I retorted. "I don't want to talk to you." I pushed past Jadeite, and then ran out of the bar as fast as my legs would carry me. My momentum carried me all the way to my doorstep. I slammed the door, and then went straight to bed. The sheer nerve of that man! I never wanted to see him again.

I drove to work the next day, whistling the whole way. I was so relieved that it would be a Jadeite-free environment that I was actually happy. The less I saw of that man the better. I practically skipped through the front door, drawing puzzled glances from my secretary, Keiko.

When I had settled in for the day, I heard the phone ring. "Hello?"

"Ms. Hino?" It was my secretary. "Your nine thirty is here."

I smiled. "Send her in."

"Okay, but it's not a she, it's a-"

Not particularly paying attention to decorum, I clicked the phone, and busied myself with gathering my notepad and patient files. "Humph. Wonder what Keiko could have meant by that. Today's client was Ellen Smith, the American wife of a Japanese citizen. I knew she was having trouble adjusting to life here, but could my client really be cross-dressing? "This could be…interesting," I thought. I had no idea.

I heard a knock from my desk. "Come in," I said, giving the client an imperious wave of my red pen. Jadeite walks through the door.

"Hello, Ms. Hino," said a nervous voice.

I looked up with a start. That was _definitely_ not Ellen! "Jadeite, what are you doing here?"

"I have an appointment," he said, sitting on my overstuffed loveseat.

"Hey! Get off of there! You're not in my calendar, so you shouldn't be here!" I got up and pointed to the door.

"Well," he said, "Someone canceled and I took his or her spot."

"Very well," I said through clenched teeth. "I see you've made yourself comfortable, so why don't we get this over with?"

Jadeite sighed. "Come on, Rei. I paid good money for this. I believe your rate is 30,000 yen per hour?"

I nodded. "That's right."

Jadeite handed me the check. "Then I have an honest hour of your time," he said, smiling.

"I guess you do," I said. Looking for something to distract me, I got out my notepad and started scribbling.

Jadeite let out a huge breath and began, "Good. So what's been going on? Ever since our date, I've been getting the cold shoulder."

I stared a hole into my clipboard, not willing to face the man sitting across from me. "I have no idea what you're getting at." I scribbled some notes hastily on my notepad.

"Yes you do," he countered easily. "You don't return my calls; you sent back the roses and then there was last night at the billiards hall. Ever since I kissed you, you went crazy." He paused, and I looked up long enough to see his crooked grin. "Oops, can I say that word in here?" I nodded and smiled. He was so cute when he was flustered.

Jadeite "Is that your problem? If you didn't want me to kiss you, all you had to do is say so. I don't think that's it, though."

"What makes you say that?" I asked. I put down my notepad. I had the feeling it wasn't going to help me anyways.

"Well," he said slyly, "You did kiss me back."

At that, I blushed as red as a tomato. "I did not!"

"You said that you hated men. Is that still true?" Jadeite said, probing deeper.

"Yes. It is," I said, wondering where he was going with this. I was beginning to wonder if I should have given _him_ the clipboard and the notepad. I mean, who was psychoanalyzing who here?

"Why? Were you…hurt as a child?" he asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Okay Freud, the armchair analysis stops right here. First of all, I'm the one with the master's in psychology. Not you. Second of all, that's none of your damn business." I finished, my voice laced with a deadly calm.

Jadeite narrowed his eyes. "I've struck pay dirt, haven't I? You don't have to say anything. I can tell. What did he do to you? Did he abuse you?"

"No," I said slowly. "He did nothing."

"So it was neglect," Jadeite deduced.

"Your time is up," I snapped. It's time to go. The door is over there," I said, pointing.

"My time is _not_ up, and you know it isn't," he said, sighing. After a brief pause, he asked, "Why are you afraid of me?"

"Me? Afraid of you? Hardly," I said, laughing. The laughter sounded hollow, even to me, and it made both of us cringe.

"Are you afraid of what happened when we kissed?" he asked.

"I wish you would stop bringing that up," I said. "Besides, nothing happened. We kissed. That's all, end of story."

"You're scared because you _felt_ something, aren't you?" he questioned. "It's not me you're afraid of at all; it's your own feelings,"

I felt the sting of his words, and they hurt. I sat at my desk silently, fiddling with my red pen.

"You don't have to be afraid of your feelings for me," said Jadeite. He took my red pen from me and held my hand in his.

Admittedly, the feel of my hand in his was pretty comforting, but I just couldn't do this. I snatched my hand away from his as if it was a snake. "I'm a therapist. My stock and trade is feelings."

"Then why can't you handle your own?" he asked softly.

My eyes began to well up, and I squeezed them shut and willed the tears not to flow. "Because of what my father did to my mother!" I exclaimed. "He just tossed her aside, and me with her! Just like we were garbage! There! I've told! Are you _happy_ now?

Jadeite looked down at his hands, shocked at my admission. "I'm sorry."

A long silence followed, where neither of us said anything. Jadeite, far from triumphant, looked like a little kid whose balloon had just floated away. I felt bad, but he had wanted to know. Now he knew the whole sordid truth. Like the old psych cliché, my negative views on men were my parent's fault. Blame them on good ol' Dad. I sighed. Anyways, it was Jadeite's fault for prying like that. I stared out the window, my head resting on my hand.

"So," said Jadeite, "Where does that leave us? Is there an 'us'?"

"I don't know," I said, sighing. I began massaging my temples, but it didn't help much. My migraine was far too insistent. "I need some time to think about it, okay?"

"Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. When you figure it out, call me. You know my number, right?" he asked.

"Yes. You gave it to me at the restaurant," I said.

My alarm went off, and Jadeite looked at his watch. He chuckled. "I guess my time is up anyways. Goodbye." He gave me a peck on the cheek, and shut the door gently behind him.

It sounded like a _maybe_ kind of goodbye, like maybe it wouldn't be forever. My heart flew upwards a bit, but it fluttered uncertainly. Did I want a forever goodbye? I knew then that I wasn't even remotely close to figuring it out.


End file.
